


The Frail Branch

by mcfair_58



Category: Bonanza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:15:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27480328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mcfair_58/pseuds/mcfair_58
Kudos: 2





	The Frail Branch

Be as a bird perched on a frail branch that she feels bending beneath her, still she sings away all the same, knowing she has wings. Victor Hugo

Chapter One 

Hoss Cartwright shook his head and remarked, “Look at that, Adam. Just like a butterfly.”  
The boy’s remark elicited a snort from his companion. “Butterfly? I disagree. A butterfly floats elegantly upon the wind, lighting gently and gracefully for only the briefest of moments before once again returning to the sky. I’d say this one is more like a toad.”  
As he spoke, there was a decided ‘squish’ of mud, accompanied by an exhilarated hoot and holler.  
“You got it right, Adam,” Hoss exclaimed. “Look at that little toady hop!”  
The two of them were watching their baby brother – literally ‘watching’ him while their pa and ma went into the settlement to visit Paul Martin and his wife. Pa’d said they might even stay overnight if it got too late. That left him and Adam free to do pretty much whatever they wanted to – with the exception of the fact that they had to mind their inquisitive, unstoppable, exasperatin’ and adorable little brother.  
They’d decided the best thing to do was wear him out.  
Ten-year-old Hoss lifted his head to look at the sky. The sun was slippin’ down toward the horizon, its last gasp of light paintin’ the majestic mountains to the north of their property copper as the bottom of one of Hop Sing’s pots. Dropping his eyes, he fastened them on his little brother who was joyfully – mostly because he knew Ma would kill him if she found out – hopping from one mud puddle to the next, landing with gusto and sending geysers of the wet brown stuff up into the air.  
Hoss let out a little sigh. “You s’pose he’s ever gonna wear out?”  
Adam grinned. “You know Little Joe. He’s like a cook stove fire. Blazing all day and then out in a second.”  
A smile – perhaps a bit of a wicked one – spread over Hoss’ chubby cheeks. “Yeah….”  
His older brother leaned his weight on the fence that ringed the field. “We’ll let him splash for a few more minutes and then race him to the house. That should about do it.”  
So far Little Joe had rode horses, roped fences, dressed up as an Indian, shot both of them with stick arrows and tied them up as his captives, and then put on Adam’s black hat and become a sheriff and freed them. He’d done his own chores and helped with theirs where he could. Hoss snorted. Adam chopped wood and had baby brother haul the pieces over to the pile – one at a time! Little Joe thought it was great fun, of course, but both of them could tell – by the end – he was beginnin’ to wear down.  
That’s when they’d rewarded him with a trip to the field out back of the house where Hop Sing planted his corn. It had rained the night before and the pasture was plentiful with puddles and the perfect place to let the four-year-old whirlwind use up the last of his energy.  
Hoss drew in a breath and held it in anticipation of what was to come. After they bedded Joe down, Adam was gonna teach him how to play chess! He already knew how to play checkers, but chess, well, knowin’ how to play that made a man feel…important somehow.  
And smart.  
His brother nudged him. “Hoss.”  
“Huh?”  
Adam indicated the field. Little Joe was sittin’ in the middle of a puddle, unmovin’. As he watched the little boy’s head went down and then snapped up.  
And then went down again.  
Older brother tipped his hat. “I think it’s time for the sheriff to come to the rescue.”  
Hoss shook his head as he looked at the soggy field. “You’re gonna be muddy as the Mississippi.”  
Adam grinned as he put one hand on the fence rail and hopped over.  
“It will all come off in the wash.”

The ‘wash’ took longer than either he or Hoss had hoped. Little Joe was a dead weight in the teenager’s arms as he plucked him out of the mud puddle and carried him home. Unfortunately, the water in the tub revived the tiny boy and it was another hour before he and Hoss finally took their respective positions at the chess board in front of the fire.  
He’d forgotten about Marie’s ritual. First came the washing and drying, and then the struggle to get Little Joe into his night clothes. Joe insisted that his mama let him sleep ‘nakibud’ and ran around the room to escape the dreaded garment, which Pa insisted on. After baby brother was corralled and clothed, that engendered a five minute talk on lying and its consequences. Then there was the bedtime story and prayers and a glass of water and a quick snack from the kitchen and….  
Adam leaned back and let out a sigh. “Hoss?”  
His young brother looked up from the chess board. “Yeah?”  
“If I ever decide to have children, I want you to remind me of tonight.”  
Hoss chuckled. “Little Joe sure is a handful, ain’t he?”  
The teenager opened his mouth to correct his brother’s grammar, but let it go with a second sigh. Hoss spent a lot of his time around the hands and, for some reason, Pa seemed more amused by his colloquial speech than annoyed.  
So who was he to argue?  
“He certainly is,” he said as he leaned in and moved his knight.  
“Hey! I thought you said the horse had to move over one and up two. You just moved it over two and up one!”  
The subtleties of chess were difficult for adults. Hoss was really doing well, though he could tell his brother would have preferred to be playing checkers.  
“It can do both,” he replied.  
Hoss scowled. “That ain’t fair.”  
That made him laugh. “I suppose it isn’t, but then life isn’t fair.”  
At that moment a bolt of lightning cut through the night sky, striking not too far in the distance. It made them both jump. The rain had started up again shortly after they’d come in from the field and it had been raining ever since.  
“Wow! That was a big one!” Hoss exclaimed as he jumped up and went into the dining room to look out the window. “That there Zeus you was talkin’ about sure picked a big bolt to toss this time!”  
Hoss wasn’t afraid of storms, but he wasn’t too fond of lightning. They’d had a hand struck once. The man survived but he’d never been the same. He bore hideous scars from the burns and was unable to control his left side. The trauma of that event left Hoss frightened of storms and Little Joe terrified of them.  
Speaking of which….  
“That’ll do it for Little Joe,” Hoss said as he came back. He wasn’t exactly frowning, but they both knew what it meant.  
Another postponement of their plans.  
Adam rose to his feet and looked toward the stair. “Did you hear him?”  
“Nope. But it won’t be long.” He turned toward the window. “That storms comin’ this way.”  
As his brother spoke, there was another crack of lightning – closer this time. “I better go up and see of –”  
“Adam?” a tiny voice said. “I’s scared.”  
Little Joe had made an appearance at the top of the staircase. His golden blond curls looked like they’d been caught in a whirlwind. His blue and white night shirt – which once, many years before, had been his – was wrapped around his tiny frame like a shroud; its tail dangling perilously on the ground.  
That was all he would need – to have his baby brother tumble down the stairs!  
“Little Joe, stay where you are!” the teenager ordered as he rose and started for the staircase.  
Joe turned and looked at the window at the end of the hall just as another bolt struck. “But I’s scared, Adam!” he insisted as he began to move. “The lighting is gonna come in the window and get me!”  
“The lightning won’t get you, Little Joe. I promise.” Thanks, Pa, Adam thought as he continued to move. He remembered that talk. Pa had told them all to stay away from the windows during a storm.  
Joe was nowhere near the window.  
“You don’t know nothin’!” baby brother declared indignantly. “Papa’s always right. I want Papa!”  
Adam winced as Joe started down the stairs. The tangle that was his bare feet and nightshirt tail was bound to trip him up within a few seconds. Little Joe pulled up short as another bolt struck, announcing the close proximity of the storm. Then his eyes went wide and he started to run – and tripped –  
And fell straight into his arms.  
Adam did a three-sixty and turned around and sat down heavily on the step, clutching his brother to his chest. The whole thing had knocked the wind out of him and so he remained where he was as Little Joe began to sniff, and then to shudder, and then to wail.  
It was at that moment that the knock came at the door.  
Hoss turned toward it. His head snapped that way.  
Neither of them moved.  
“Should I…should I open it, Adam?” his young brother asked with trepidation.  
Outside the wind and water were striking withering blows against the ranch house. The storm was at its height. Anyone caught out in it was in danger of their lives.  
Still, he was alone in the house with his two young brothers. Hop Sing had gone along with their parents to the settlement to visit his parents. Hop Ling, his father was ill. When Pa hesitated about going, he’d stood up to the older man and told him he was seventeen now and old enough to look after his brothers alone.  
Now he wished he was twelve.  
“Adam?”  
“Come here and take Little Joe,” he said even as the knocking resumed. “I’ll see who it is.”  
Little Joe’s fingers grasped the fabric of his deep wine shirt as he spoke, twisting his collar so tightly Adam thought he might choke. Even though the little boy had thought he was minced meat when compared to Pa two seconds before, now it seemed he was vital to his survival.  
“Noooooo!!” Joe wailed, digging in even deeper.  
Hoss sat down beside them and touched Joe’s arm. “Hey, there, Little Joe. You remember that game you and I like to play whenever it’s stormin’? You wanta play it now?”  
Joe’s head surfaced from his shirt long enough for the little boy to peer over his arm at his brother.  
He shook his head.  
“Ah, come on, Joe. You know, I’m skeered of storms too. I need you to help me.” Hoss held out his hand. “How’s about we hide under Pa’s bed and play that game?”  
The teenager hid his smile as he felt his baby brother relax – just a bit. Hoss always knew just what to say to Little Joe. Not only was the game a brilliant idea to calm the little boy, but middle brother knew that Joe would not be able to resist doing what he was not supposed to – which was being in the room Pa and Marie shared when they were not in it.  
“Come on,” Hoss coaxed, wiggling his fingers. “Let’s go.”  
Little Joe hesitated only a second before scrambling out of his arms and into Hoss’. As he did, a second series of knocks sounded on the heavy wooden door. Adam watched the pair ascend the stair and turn the corner before he descended. Once there, he paused long enough to pick his pistol up from the credenza, and then – with some trepidation – opened it.  
The man looked like he’d been caught in a flash flood. It took Adam a second to recognize him since his hat was tipped down so the rain could run off and he was buried in a slicker.  
“Deputy Coffee?” he asked, his tone somewhere near incredulous. “What are you doing out here at this time of night – and in this storm?”  
Roy sniffed. “Mind if I come in, boy?”  
Adam frowned and stepped back. “Of course. I should have offered. Forgive me, you…startled me.”  
“I know it and I’m sorry for it, son,” the lawman said as he stepped inside and removed his hat.  
“The fire’s hot. Why don’t you go over there and warm up.” He started for the kitchen. “I’ll get you something hot to drink.”  
A hand on his shoulder stopped him. “There’s no time, boy. I come here to deliver a message from your pa and then I got other folks to see.”  
Adam turned back. “A message?”  
Roy nodded. “I’m afraid your ma and pa ain’t comin’ home tonight.”  
“I knew that was a possibility.” Adam’s brow furrowed. “Pa wouldn’t send you out here just to tell me that.”  
“No, son, I don’t s’pose as he would.” Roy hesitated. “I think I will take this old carcass over to the fire for a minute if you don’t mind.”  
“How about the coffee?”  
The lawman thought a moment and then grinned. “Okay, you talked me into it.”  
Adam went to the kitchen and quickly returned. Roy thanked him for the coffee and sipped it slowly before speaking.  
“Those little brothers of yours in bed?”  
“They’re hiding under Pa’s,” the teenager replied with a smile. “Hoss’ idea.”  
Roy nodded as he placed the empty cup on the sofa table. “You pa was worried about the little one. Said he was scared of storms.”  
“Little Joe will be all right with Hoss.” Adam took a seat on the settee. “Now, what’s this about a message from Pa?”  
“Your ma and pa are at the Martin’s.” Roy paused. “Your ma’s not feelin’ too good.”  
“Marie was fine when they left.”  
“That’s what Ben said. Seems she got to feelin’ bad on the trip in. Your pa had to help her out of the wagon and into the house.” The lawman met his puzzled gaze. “I ain’t gonna mice words, Adam. Paul thinks it’s influenza.”  
Influenza.  
Good Lord.  
Adam sucked in a breath. “Is he sure?”  
Roy nodded. “You knew Hop Sing’s pa was sick?”  
“Yes. He was going to visit him and….” Adam’s voice trailed off. “Oh.”  
“Seems it’s runnin’ through China town. The people in the settlement, well, they’re sayin’ it came over on a ship bringing Chinese immigrants here.”  
Adam knew what that meant. “Is Hop Sing okay?”  
“Safe, you mean?” Roy shrugged. “Safe as can be. Robert’s got men on the streets keepin’ watch for trouble.”  
‘Robert’ was Sheriff Robert Olin. He was a tough, savvy man who had taken up the mantle of sheriff in the settlement and taken on policing its hard-bitten, hard-living and even harder-drinking citizens.  
“Have the Chinese been threatened?”  
Roy nodded as he rose to his feet. “One business burned down, two men beaten, and it’s only gonna get worse. It don’t take much to turn ordinary people into a mob when they’re scared for their lives.”  
Sophocles had said, ‘To him who is in fear, everything rustles’. The philosopher was right. Roy was right too. In the space of a heartbeat, for everyone in Gold Hill, their world had changed.  
His world had changed.  
“Has Paul quarantined Pa and Marie?”  
The lawman nodded. “He’s shut Chinatown down too. And son, the doctor’s quarantined you and your brothers.” The older man’s look was sympathetic. “I already told the boys in the bunkhouse they’d best give the house a wide berth.”  
Adam sucked in a breath. He hadn’t thought of that. If Marie was ill, then they too had been exposed.  
“Any of them feeling ill?”  
Roy pursed his lips. He shook his head.  
“How long?” the teenager asked as he swallowed over his rising fear. “How long are we quarantined?”  
“Paul says it’s best to give it a week. Seems it usually shows up one to three days after a person’s been exposed.”  
“Then you’re taking a risk coming here.”  
Roy Coffee laughed as he headed for the door. He clutched the handle and opened it to the wild night outside before replying. “I’m countin’ on the fact that God protects fools, drunks, little children – and ornery lawmen.” When he said nothing, the deputy inquired, “Adam?”  
He’d paled he was sure.  
‘Little children’.  
Marie would have been closest to Little Joe. 

  
Chapter Two 

Thirty-seven year old Ben Cartwright stood at the window. He was in one of the upper rooms of the house belonging to his friend Paul Martin. Behind him, in the bed, lay his beautiful and beloved wife. Marie moaned, deep in the throes of a fever that had come upon her suddenly as the crack of a rifle. Before him, twenty miles away, through darkness so thick he could cut it, along a deserted road drenched and muddied by a sudden storm, alone and without succor or support – were his three young sons.  
Ben let out a sigh.  
A sudden storm.  
He’d weathered them before when he sailed the seas – unexpected squalls that arose without warning and threatened to leave every man-jack of them buried in the depths. Often, just before they arose, the waters would be calm; the sky a crisp clear blue. Any seaman worth his salt knew that a peaceful and serene sea was often the harbinger of danger. Landlubbers called it as ‘the calm before the storm. Where he came from, in New Englander, there was a saying: ‘A clear sky of feckless blue means a storm within a day or two.’  
It seemed to him, in this fallen world, that when things were ship-shape the captain had better check the hull for holes.  
He’d lived through this kind of ‘storm’ before. Back in 1831, when he’d been a boy, influenza had hit the Continent claiming thousands of lives. In the end a quarter of the population of Stockholm succumbed to the contagion, along with nearly one hundred thousand other people. America had been spared that plague. In the new world. the scourge had been Yellow Fever. In the late 18th century New England’s young and burgeoning capital of Philadelphia had been devastated by the loss of nine percent of its population. His family had not been unaffected. His mother’s grandfather and several other relatives had fallen to that scourge.  
Ben’s troubled gaze traveled along that lonely stretch of road toward his home. He’d left Adam in charge. At seventeen, his eldest was nearly grown. Due to the choices he had made and the life they had lived together before settling in the Gold Hill area, Adam had become a man at a very tender age. He had a good head on his shoulders and those shoulders were broad and able to bear great responsibility, but….  
Adam was still a boy.  
A boy who might be facing one of the greatest challenges of his young life.  
Once she knew she was ill, Marie had pleaded with Paul to be allowed to return to the Ponderosa, but the physician had forbidden it. They boys might not be infected. It would be irresponsible for either of them to return without knowing as they could carry the contagion to them. The rancher turned and looked at his wife where she lay pitching and tossing on the bed. But even more than that, Marie had a delicate constitution. She’d nearly died in childbirth four years before and been less robust ever since. Paul had cautioned his wife to be careful, but ‘careful’ was not a word in Marie De Marigny Cartwright’s vocabulary. Like a wayward horse she chomped at the bit of that prognosis, and strained against the rope the physician’s diagnosis had tethered her with. Instead of listening, Marie had gone about her headstrong way and this had been the result – a susceptibility to infection.  
Ben moved from the window to take a seat at his wife’s side. Though it nearly killed him to be separated from his boys, he lived for the fact that he was with Marie and would be the one to tend her. Paul had wanted him to sequester himself as he’d shown no signs of the disease as of yet, but he refused. Marie needed him.  
Just as he needed to do something.  
There was a gentle knock on the door, and then it opened to admit Paul Martin. The physician stood for a moment looking down at his patient before asking, “Any change?”  
“Her fever is higher,” Ben answered as he picked up and ran a cool cloth over his wife’s brow. “Marie complained of a headache when she woke up a little while back.”  
“I know she is experiencing exhaustion and aching,” his friend said as he moved to the opposite side of the bed. “Has she complained of any tightness of the chest or difficulty breathing?”  
The rancher shook his head. “No. Is that a good sign?”  
“Well, it’s not a bad one.” Paul smiled wearily. “Ben, Marie is….vulnerable as you know. We will have to watch her closely. If you notice any congestion let me know immediately.”  
He rose to his feet. “Do you need to examine her now?”  
The physician ran a hand over his eyes. “No. Actually, I am on my way to my bed. I just finished making rounds in China town.”  
“How is Hop Ling doing?”  
Paul chuckled. “He’s a tough old bird. He’s holding his own against this, which is amazing. It’s the oldest and youngest who are the most at risk at these times.”  
The physician started toward the door. He called him back. “Paul?”  
“Yes, Ben?”  
“Joseph. I know you’ve had…concerns about his health since he came into this world.” He indicated his wife where she tossed and turned in their bed. “Little Joe would have been the closest to Marie over the last few days.”  
“That’s true and, as I said, he is at risk due to his age. However,” Paul chuckled, ‘that boy’s lungs are top quality. He has every chance of surviving this if he contracts it.”  
“But also a chance of dying?”  
“Yes.” Paul nodded. “As do we all.”

It was strange to see the main pathway through the settlement emptied of people. As the morning dawned, Ben had returned to the window. He was looking out of it now. There was some commerce – wagons rolling in and out with supplies, the grocer heading toward the mercantile, even a businessman or two hustling toward their offices – but for the most part the main street was deserted. In the space of one day, everything had changed. The locals were sequestered in their homes now, afraid to open their doors. Word spread quickly amidst such a small population.  
As did fear.  
Ben stretched and walked over to the round table that occupied one corner of the room and held his breakfast tray. He thought he might be able to eat now. Roy had brought it in a short time before. His friend had come to tell him he’d been out to see the boys and that, so far, none of them showed any signs of becoming ill. Like Paul, the lawman was exhausted. Roy told him he’d been up all night traveling from one outlying spread to the next, making certain everyone knew to give the settlement a wide berth for at least a week – and maybe longer. Once he arrived at the table, the rancher looked at the eggs, bacon, and toast and decided he didn’t have an appetite. Catching hold of the handle of the Havilland tea cup, he raised it to his lips and took a sip of coffee. It was lukewarm, but he was used to that. On the trail a man cherished the precious liquid and drank it – with thanks – in whatever condition it was presented.  
With thanks.  
He had yet to say his prayers today.  
It was his custom to begin each day with a Psalm, and almost always with one of praise. Though he was ashamed to admit it, right now, that word brought a taste worse than old coffee to his mouth.  
After putting down his cup, Ben picked up the Bible that lay beside it. It was the small pocket one he always carried in his saddlebags. To put it mildly, it was well-worn. He’d had this Bible since he’d left his boyhood home. His father had given it to him as he left on his first sea voyage, as a ‘present help in times of trouble’. Ben turned to look at his wife where she lay languishing, and then slowly and dutifully turned to the Psalms and let his finger run down the page until it decided to stop.  
His feeling of shame intensified as he read the words the Lord had chosen to give to him in Psalm 34.  
‘I will bless the Lord at all times: his praise shall continually be in my mouth. My soul shall make her boast in the Lord: the humble shall hear thereof, and be glad. O magnify the Lord with me, and let us exalt his name together. I sought the Lord, and he heard me, and delivered me from all my fears. They looked unto him, and were lightened: and their faces were not ashamed. This poor man cried, and the Lord heard him, and saved him out of all his troubles. The angel of the Lord encampeth round about them that fear him, and delivereth them. O taste and see that the Lord is good: blessed is the man that trusteth in him.’  
‘This poor man cried and the Lord heard him’.  
Ben laid his hand on the page as his lips began to move in prayer, as he pleaded with the Lord to spare his wife’s life – as he begged for protection for his sons – and as he asked for forgiveness for thinking of only his own. Paul said the epidemic was only now beginning; that those who had been infected – and inadvertently infected others – were just falling ill. There were many worried fathers, desperate mothers, and terrified children in the area of Gold Hill right now. He prayed for them as well as his own, and for the Chinese in particular, who bore the brunt of people’s ignorance and fear.  
His lips had just formed the ‘amen’ when he heard Marie call his name.  
Closing the Bible, Ben returned it to the table-top and went to her side. He clasped his wife’s feverish hand between his own as he spoke to her.  
“I’m here, my love. I will be with you until you are better.”  
Marie licked her dry and cracked lips. “L’eau?” she mouthed, asking for water.  
He gave it to her and waited while she drank. After returning the cup to the bedside table, Ben asked. “How are you feeling?”  
“Very tired,” she replied.  
“Paul said to expect that. He also said you were doing well.”  
His wife’s fever-bright eyes locked onto his. “You are all right? You are not sick?”  
“I’m fine,” he said as he brushed a sodden lock of golden-blonde hair from her forehead. “You just worry about yourself and getting better.”  
Marie’s eyes closed and stayed closed so long he thought she had returned to sleep. Then, without opening them, she said, “It was Providence that we did not bring the boys with us.”  
Ben flinched slightly. “Yes.”  
Marie couldn’t see his face, but she didn’t miss it. Her eyes shot open. “What is wrong?”  
“Nothing,” he assured her. “Go back to sleep.”  
“Are the boys sick? Benjamin, tell me the truth!” she demanded.  
So much for Paul’s diagnosis of a weak constitution.  
“No, they are not sick. They’re safe at home. You don’t have to worry about them. They won’t catch anything from anyone in town.”  
That seemed to appease her – for about three heartbeats.  
“But they are in danger from me? Non?” Marie’s voice broke along with her heart. Tears rolled down her feverish cheeks. “From my hugs and kisses?”  
“My love. Calm yourself. You won’t save the boys by working yourself into a state.”  
“Save them? You are not telling me the truth!” His wife sat up, took hold of her covers, tossed them back, and swung her bare feet over the side of the bed faster than he could stop her. Of course, he didn’t have to. The infulenza did. “Mon Dieu…” she breathed as she headed for the floor.  
Ben caught Marie and returned her feather-light form to the bed. Taking hold of the covers, he drew them up to her chin and then planted a kiss on her hair.  
“I’m cold,” she moaned as she began to shiver. “So….cold….”  
The rancher placed a hand on his wife’s forehead. It was hot as the business end of a branding iron. “Your fever’s up. Really, Marie,” he scolded gently, “you have to learn to behave.”  
A slight smile lifted one corner of her rose-bud lips. “I believe, my love,” she replied as she drifted off, “that it was you who said…I do not know the…meaning of the word.”  
He cupped her chin in his hand. “You must use every ounce of strength you have to stay with me and return to the boys. Do you understand?”  
With tears in her eyes, Marie nodded.  
And was out.  
Ben gazed at his beautiful young wife a moment longer and then returned to his station at the window. The light was up and the day begun. The rain had ended and the main street of the settlement was drying out. He looked to the horizon again. It would take less than four hours to get home on the back of a strong horse. He could be there and return in less than half a day. If the boys were well, he would let them be, but if they weren’t, he would bring them to the settlement and shelter them…somewhere.  
Except he couldn’t.  
And wouldn’t.  
They were better off where they were, and they were together. Adam, Hoss, and even Little Joe would look out for one another.  
As God would look out for them all.  


Chapter Three

Roy Coffee warned him to keep his distance if he chose to speak to the ranch hands. Adam felt he needed to, so he left the house, crossed the yard, and halted ten feet away from the bunkhouse before calling out. Pa intended to add a wing to the house for their workers one day, but for now the dozen or so men he employed shared a rugged structure that had been pitched halfway between the main house and the barn. Spring had sprung and they were at top capacity, but – as it turned out – half the men were in the fields with the stock and the other half were up at the timber camp marking and cutting trees. There were only four men occupying it now – Dusty McGraw, Jeb Wilson, and a pair of brothers named Jim and Jack Shackley.  
Which was, given the circumstances, a blessing.  
The first to emerge was old Dusty, followed closely by Post Hole Wilson The pair were older men – regulars who came and went with the season, but always returned.  
Dusty had been with them so long, he was practically family.  
“How are you doin’, boy?” the old cowpoke asked.  
“I’m fine.”  
“And those two young scallywags?”  
“Fine too.” ‘At least for the moment’, he thought to himself. “How about you and the others?”  
“Ain’t much in the way of what I’d call ‘others’ left,” Dusty replied. “It’s just Post Hole and me. Them young’uns took off right after Roy Coffee came by.”  
“Took off?”  
He nodded. “Roy told us about your Pa and the Missus. Seems the Shackleys done lost family to the influenza awhile back. They said they wasn’t gonna stick ‘round here to catch it and die.”  
“But if one of them is infected, they could spread it,” Adam protested.  
“Told ‘em that. Didn’t care. Seems they was only interested in keeping their own skins whole.”  
Adam ran a hand over his eyes and sighed.  
“You sure you’re all right, son?” Dusty asked. “You’re lookin’ kind of peeked.”  
“I’m fine,” he muttered in return. “I have to be fine. I have two small brothers to look after.”  
“That youngest one behavin’ himself?”  
Adam laughed. “Little Joe’s not up yet. He and Hoss spent most of the night under the bed, hiding from the storm. I let them sleep in.”  
“That must be why the cow’s complainin’,” Dusty said with a wink.  
“Tarnation! I forgot about their chores.”  
“You just let them boys sleep, and you get some extra rest too.” The older man looked at his companion. “Post Hole and I can take care of the animals.”  
“Sure will, Adam,” the big man said.  
“Thank you, Dusty. Jeb. I appreciate it.”  
He turned to go, but the old cowpoke called him back.  
“Yes?”  
Dusty’s look and tone were serious. “I’m willin’ to chance it, son.”  
“Chance what?” he asked, confused.  
“Catchin’ whatever this is. If you need help in the house….”  
He thanked him again. “We’ll be fine.”  
“If you ain’t, you let me know right away. Promise?”  
“I promise. I’ll fire off three shots, Cartwright style,” he said with a grin.  
The older man shook his head. “You put a hole in that pine ceiling of your pa’s, you ain’t gonna have to worry about gettin’ sick.”  
The smile died. “Dusty, you have no idea how happy I would be to have Pa yell at me right about now.”  
Adam watched Dusty and Post Hole return to the bunkhouse before heading for the house. Halfway there, he changed his mind and headed to the stable instead. Since he had no idea when he’d get out again, he wanted to check on his new horse before going inside. His birthday gift this year had been a beautiful copper-coated thoroughbred that he’d named ‘Sport’. Over the next few years – while he was away at college – the horse would be cared for and trained so he could become his chief mount when he returned. He’d barely had any time to spend with the animal between preparations for leaving and fulfilling his duties to the ranch and his family.  
He wanted to say hello and goodbye…just in case.  
As he stood there, stroking the animal’s satiny nose, Adam considered the fragile nature of life. Shakespeare put it succinctly when he wrote, ‘Tis a vile thing to die, my gracious lord, when men are unprepared and look not for it.’ Yesterday everything had been fine. Marie kept Little Joe in the kitchen with her and Hop Sing. The trio spent the entire day baking batches of cookies to take to the church social the upcoming Sunday. The house had been filled with enticing aromas and the sound of their combined laughter when he, Pa and Hoss arrived home. They’d spent most of the day on horseback, checking out fences. Supper had been a joyous affair and they’d spent the evening together as a family. He could still see Pa carrying Little Joe up to bed, cradled against his shoulder. The tiny boy had fallen asleep in mid-sentence as he watched him and Hoss play checkers.  
It all seemed so sinister now.  
Marie hugging and kissing their baby brother. Little Joe kissing her back and then turning and blowing the raspberries in Hoss’ face for something the youngster said. Him taking Hoss by the hand as he led him up to his room; sitting by the youngster as he read him a passage from Charles Dickens’ Oliver Twist. Dickens created a horrific picture of the filth and disease-ridden streets of London. You’d expect disease to be rampant there.  
But not here.  
Adam shuddered as words from the sermon the Sunday before echoed in his ears. ‘And I looked, and behold a pale horse, and his name that sat on him was Death, and Hell followed with him.’  
The hell of contagion.  
He permitted himself a half-hour with Sport before he returned to the house. The sun was just cresting over the mountains as he went inside. As he suspected, neither brother greeted him. Hoss and Little Joe were still asleep, tucked under the covers in Pa and Marie’s great Tudor-style bed.  
The teenager had to admit that he loved this time of the morning. He craved quiet, and it was hard to come by in the midst of the hustle and bustle that was necessary to keep a ranch a quarter of the size of Rhode Island going. Pa knew of his early morning longing and often arranged it so he had at least a half-hour alone. During that time he would read, or sit and think, or even – in spite of Marie’s misgivings about his faith – pray. He believed in God and believed in petitioning Him. It just so happened he also believed that when God granted answers to those prayers, the Man Upstairs often expected you to make them happen.  
Sitting down in his chair by the fire Adam picked up his current read, opened the book to where he had it marked, and began to read.  
It wasn’t five minutes later that Hoss called him.  
“Adam. Little Joe don’t want to wake up.”  
“Then let him sleep,” he called back. It was going to be hard enough to entertain a four-year-old all day when they were restricted to the house. “Dusty and Post Hole are doing your morning chores.”  
Hoss appeared at the top of the steps in his night shirt. “It ain’t that, Adam. It’s like he cain’t wake up. Even if I shake him, Joe just groans and pulls the covers over his head.”  
Somehow, he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary in that.  
“He’s just being stubborn as usual,” Adam replied with a scowl as he read the same sentence for the third time.  
“I ain’t so sure, Adam. He keeps sayin’ he’s cold, but I felt him and he’s hot as a cook fire.”  
The teenager put his book down and rose to his feet.  
And so it began. 

The sickness descended like a swift hawk. It gripped Little Joe in its deadly talons and refused to let go. The tiny boy’s failure was a painful thing to watch. In two hours his fever was sky high and what had been a dry, upper-chest cough descended into his lungs and became a low, wet bark. The teenager did his best to mask his emotions when he went to Hoss’ room to update the ten-year-old on his baby brother’s condition. Once he realized Joe had the influenza, he’d sent the youngster there and told him to stay put. He explained it was to keep him safe – and it was – but there was another reason. He wanted Hoss close where he could watch him. After all, the two little boys had spent the evening together under the bed and then slept in it side by side.  
And he had let them!  
Unfortunately, he’d read far too many medical journals. He knew the symptoms and the disease’s progression. After learning of the 1831 influenza epidemic from their father, he’d developed a somewhat morbid fascination with world-wide pandemics and read as many eye-witness accounts as he could get his hands on. For the influenza, the first symptom was often body aches. Then came chills and fever, and after that, debilitating weakness. For the fortunate ones, this was a far as it went. For others, it was only the beginning. As their temperature skyrocketed even higher, the patient’s lungs would fill with a viscous liquid, making it hard to breathe. This was the crisis point. Those whose fevers broke, most often recovered. In the very young and the very old, the fever could prove fatal as the intense heat triggered an extreme inflammatory response in their exhausted bodies that often led to sepsis and death.  
Sometimes in one day.  
Adam closed his eyes for a moment, preparing himself, and then placed a hand on his baby brother’s forehead. To his surprise, Little Joe opened his eyes and looked at him.  
“My legs hurt,” Joe moaned as tears streaked down his chubby cheeks. “Adam, make…my legs stop hurting.”  
“I would if I could, buddy,” he said gently as he reached behind the little boy and rubbed the skin above his tailbone, hoping to ease the pain.  
“That…hurts too,” Joe whimpered, and then he coughed.  
And coughed again.  
Adam righted the little boy and sat behind him. He placed one hand on his brother’s chest and the other behind his back and held him until the fit passed. The teenager cursed silently under his breath as he listened to his brother struggle to breathe. There were several things he could do to help. Steam would be immensely useful. Plus there was a syrup he could make that would help clear Little Joe’s chest. Hop Sing always cooked up a batch when they had the croup. He could easily heat the water and make the syrup, but there was one thing he couldn’t do and that was leave. Little Joe was too sick and he couldn’t risk Hoss sitting with him and contracting the disease.  
A sound in the hall caused Adam to turn his head. Hoss had pushed the door open with his foot and was struggling to carry in a large copper kettle brimful with steaming water.  
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “You’re supposed to be in your room!”  
Hoss’ crisp blue eyes locked on his. His look was defiant. “Yeah, I know. You already sent me there, so what’re you gonna do about it?”  
“Hoss, I…” Adam fumbled for words, at a loss. “I…. I don’t want you to get sick.”  
“Ain’t nothin’ you can do about that,” his young brother said as he lowered the kettle to the floor and stepped back to miss the splash of boiling hot water. “I already been exposed. If I’m gonna get it, I’m gonna get it. You ain’t God, Adam. You cain’t stop it and you cain’t take care of Little Joe all by yourself!”  
The ten-year-old held his gaze a moment longer and then went back to work. Hoss stoked the fire – something else he had had no time to do – and carried the kettle over to it. After that, the youngster reached into a pack he’d slung on his shoulder and drew out a bundle of pine branches, which he then proceeded to twist so he could drop the needles into the water.  
As the healing scent filled the sick room, Hoss came to his side and looked down at Little Joe who was still awake and coughing, but barely aware of their presence.  
“Hey, Little Joe,” the youngster said. “How you doin, punkin’?”  
Joe focused on his brother as even more tears trailed down his face. “I hurt, Hoss. Real bad.” The little boy coughed several times, which left him gasping. “I can’t…breathe. Hoss…can you…help me breathe?”  
“You bet!” Hoss replied. “I brought you some hot water and pine needles. You’ll be breathin’ better in no time.”  
“Where’s…Hoppy?”  
Hoss glanced at him before answering. “Hop Sing went to town, Joe. Don’t you remember? With Ma and….”  
Adam winced.  
Little Joe’s lower lip trembled. The tears quadrupled. He sucked in a breath, coughed, and then shrieked, “I want my…mama!”  
“Joe, you ain’t listenin’, “ Hoss tried. “Ma’s in the – ”  
Joe’s feverish gaze switched to him. Even sick, it was a formidable sight.  
“Adam! Go get my mama!”  
Of course, Little Joe couldn’t know about Marie; that his beloved mama was as sick as him – if not worse.  
“I will as soon as I can, Little Joe,” he said, brushing a few curls back from his brother’s eyes. “But I can’t go until you’re better.”  
“Hoss can…take…care of me,” Joe protested amidst coughs. “Won’t…you…Hoss?”  
“Joe, listen to me.” Adam waited until his brother met his gaze. “You need to be quiet. It’s the only way you’ll stop coughing. Lay back and breathe as deeply as you can. You don’t want to get worse, do you?”  
Little Joe’s quixotic green eyes narrowed and then – quicker as a lightning flash – he was out of the bed and on his feet.  
For approximately two seconds.  
The sound of that little body hitting the floor brought, in turn, a silence as profound as a desert night.  
Hoss was faster than him. The ten-year-old had Little Joe in his arms and had pulled him close and was kissing the top of his head. He wanted to scold him, but he didn’t have the heart.  
Whatever happened, they were in this together. 

Sleep soon became a word without meaning.  
Adam scrubbed his hands over his face and rose to his feet. His walk was a little unsteady as he crossed the kitchen to look out the window. He had no idea what time it was. The pale light outside could mean the sun was coming up, but it might just as well have meant it was going down. Shortly after Hoss brought the water into Joe’s sick room, he’d gone downstairs to accomplish some necessary tasks. The first was to relieve his bladder. The second was to splash water on his face and shave, using the supplies in the downstairs guest room. It was a little thing, and he begrudged the time it took, but it made him feel halfway human again. Then he came to the kitchen and got to work, putting more water on to boil, fixing a pot of soup to keep him and Hoss going, and making a cough syrup for Joe that he thought the little boy would swallow without too much fuss. Adam made a face. Hop Sing’s favorite was a mixture of kerosene and sugar. Their cook would never admit to it, but he’d ‘nosed’ the volatile liquid right away. The Asian man claimed the recipe was an ancient family secret. Pa told him with a laugh that the ‘ancient family member’ who had given it to their housekeeper was a young Paiute woman. He’d watched Hop Sing and his youngest brother battle before over him taking it. He just didn’t have the heart to do that to the little guy when he felt so bad. Adam chuckled. Another remedy – this one recommended by Old Dusty – was pouring rotgut down a man’s throat to clear it of phlegm.  
That one, of course, was out of the question.  
The third came from Marie’s family. Hop Sing begrudgingly admitted to its efficacy while disputing the fact that Little Joe welcomed it. It was created by boiling cherry tree bark, sweetening it with honey, and then adding a little moonshine at the very end.  
Adam lifted the lid from the kettle and checked the concoction. It was thickening, but not quite thick enough to pull it from the fire and add the corn juice. He’d found a bottle of moonshine tucked at the back of the liquor cabinet. It had been a gag gift to his Pa from Roy Coffee who well knew Pa’s penchant for fine French brandy.  
That gave him time to turn his attention to the construction of the tent.  
He’d remembered, somewhere between midnight and noon – or noon and midnight – that once upon a time when he’d been young and sick, he’d been put under one. Pa had found temporary work in a town and they’d rented a room at a boarding house. The landlord had a boy about his age and the two of them had become chums and spent most of their free time roaming about together. One fine winter day, on a dare, they shimmied out of their clothes and took a dip in a frigid pond. They each won a bottle of apple cider and a knife.  
And lost their health.  
The next day he woke up with a slight fever. When the cough developed – and deepened – he had to admit what he had done.  
Two days later he sicker than a dog. The doctor who came to look at the landlord’s son – and at the kind woman’s insistence took a look at him – wasn’t sure either of them would survive. He suggested Pa use their sheets to build a tent and bring the hot water under it where he could breathe it directly. It was a long haul, not all of which he remembered, but he survived.  
He was going to build Joe one of those tents.  
A scavenger hunt through Hop Sing’s closets provided the clean sheets. Their housekeeper was going to kill him when he saw what he did to them – and to the great room draperies – but it had to be done. Using an awl he punched holes through the fine linen fabric. Then he dumped the draperies on the floor and pulled out the rods so he could lace the sheets to them. He intended to hang the tent from the wooden frame of their parents’ bed. It was a tester and would work better than Joe’s small four poster. Before coming down, he’d started the fire in that room, so it was growing warm. By the time everything was done and he went back upstairs, it would be ready to move Little Joe into. He figured he could take the mattress from Joe’s bed, flip it over and cover it with new sheets, and Hoss could sleep on that so he could be near him.  
He wouldn’t be comfortable sleeping anywhere other than the bedside chair.  
Adam checked the syrup again and decided it was done. He pulled it from the fire, uncorked the moonshine, and held the bottle over the kettle. For a moment he just stood there; then he lifted the bottle to his lips and upended it. One swallow of the homemade stuff was enough to send fire – and renewed energy – through his lean frame. After that he added the corn juice to the mix. The scent was invigorating. It was also a bit heady.  
Adam closed his eyes as the world slipped to the side.  
“God, no,” he breathed, meaning it as a prayer and not a curse. He shouldn’t have taken that shot. He was too tired. It was making him dizzy.  
Damn it! He was tired. He had every right to be tired. Not only had he been up for more hours than he could count, but he was worried about his brother – about his brothers. So far Hoss had shown no symptoms of the illness, but that didn’t mean anything. It could strike out of the blue like an arrow released from the bow. The teenager sucked in air and pulled back from the table. He’d finish the cough syrup and take it and the hot water up to Pa’s room. Then he would come back down for the food. He could care less about eating, but both he and Hoss needed to consume something to keep up their strength. Once they’d eaten he’d bring the tray back down and collect the elements of the tent and then go back upstairs and erect it. After that, He’d move Little Joe’s into Pa’s room.  
It all sounded exhausting.  
As he wobbled a second time, Adam’s gaze fell on the pot of coffee he had put on to perk along with the syrup.  
Coffee. That was what he needed. It would keep him going.  
The teenager took a step and the world spun again – faster and farther out this time. “No, he breathed between teeth clenched in despair. “No.”  
God would not do this. He would not let him get sick when Little Joe and Hoss needed him so.  
Then he remembered another epidemic that had struck a nearby settlement. An entire family had died. Father. Mother. Nine children – including their responsible oldest brother.  
Adam closed his eyes as he fought for balance. He was not sick. He was not going to be sick.  
He had no time for it.  
But time waits for no man.  
Or teenager. 

  
Chapter Four

He wanted to take his fingers and stop his ears.  
As if blocking the sound would make it go away.  
Ben Cartwright stood once again at the window, staring out toward home and longing for what had been.  
For everything he’d had and had taken for granted.  
For nearly a day now the only sound in the room had been his wife’s labored breathing. At first Marie had held her own against the invisible enemy that sought to devastate her. Then, suddenly, she began losing ground. Paul had come in a few hours back with a cautious smile on his face and left with a decided frown. His beloved’s symptoms were somewhat asymptomatic. Marie’s fever was mild. Her chest, clear for the most part. The aches and pains that had kept her tossing and turning from one side to the other seemed to have ceased.  
But she was slipping away.  
He’d been with her throughout the night, bathing her forehead and slender form; talking to her all the while. At first she didn’t respond. Then, there’d been a word or two and – once – even a weak smile. As of this morning she’d become unresponsive. Paul said Marie had fallen into a coma, which was not necessarily a bad thing. It meant his wife’s body had shut her down and was marshaling every resource for the battle ahead.  
He feared it was a losing one.  
Ben’s gaze returned to the street before him. Though nearly devoid of humanity, it echoed with the persistent sound of hammering. While businesses considered ‘luxuries’ languished, others labeled ‘necessary’ flourished. The settlement’s carpenters had more work than they could handle, building caskets out of pine. A committee had come to him and asked him if they could use his timber. He’d told them to take what they needed.  
In some cases, it was the last thing he could do for his neighbors and friends.  
And while the sound of the hammers was maddening, there was another he found even harder to bear; the creaking of wooden wheels. Wagons of all shapes and sizes rolled through the settlement in a ceaseless parade, bearing those freshly made caskets to the edge of town and the mass grave that had been dug there.  
Ben closed his eyes. He drew in a breath and let it out with a prayer.  
Why, Father? Why?  
He’d read a passage from the second chapter of the book of Joel the night before. It had troubled him. He was familiar with it, of course, but in the light of what was happening it struck him hard. Always before he had taken it as a reassurance that God would see his people through dark and dreadful times. This time it was different. It wasn’t verse twenty-four that struck him, but twenty-five.  
‘And I will restore to you the years that the locust hath eaten, the cankerworm, and the caterpillar, and the palmerworm, my great army which I sent among you.’

‘My great army which I sent among you’.  
Ben’s gaze returned to the dirt road he and the other landed men of the settlement had dreamed would one day turn into a paved street. Fine buildings would rise and line both sides. There would be prosperity and wealth. Men and women would come, and their small town would grow into a metropolis that would rival Stockton and the other great cities of the West. There would be more than enough for everyone; enough to feed their families and to allow them to live at ease. Their sons would be men among men; the proud inheritors of vast tracts of land, of cattle and other goods.  
The rancher snorted. He’d read that passage too.  
‘Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall.’  
Were they swollen with pride? Had they grown too self-important and self-sufficient?  
Had they forgotten their need of God?  
The thought humbled him. Their century had seen innovations that bettered men’s lives. The electric dynamo and telegraph. Fuel cells and refrigeration. With each invention – each innovation – man felt he had more control over his destiny.  
How simple, how childish they were.  
There was no control. No matter how hard a man tried – no matter what tools he had – there was nothing he could do in the face of death. Paul said it was his belief that disease was caused by something so small it could only be seen with a microscope. In the early part of the century a man named Bassi had claimed that these microscopic organisms were the cause of disease in silk worms. Science was on the threshold of figuring out what it was that caused a man to sicken and die.  
But science could do nothing about it.  
Paul had a habit of saying a man’s cure was ‘up to God and his constitution.’ He believed that, just as he believed the Good Book when it said a man’s days were numbered. Ben’s lips moved as he quietly recited another of the Psalms. ‘Lord, make me to know mine end, and the measure of my days, what it is, that I may know how frail I am. Behold, thou hast made my days as an handbreadth; and mine age is as nothing before thee. Verily every man at his best state is altogether vanity.’  
A handbreadth.  
Marie was breathing.  
There was time still.  
Ben walked to his wife’s side and stood for a moment looking down at her. Marie had already lost weight. Her beautiful face was drawn; her cheeks sunken and her color, sallow. Paul had done all he could, administering what medicine he had, and then left shaking his head.  
Ben’s jaw grew tight as he knelt by the side of the bed. Paul might have given up, but not him. He would not give up so long as Marie was alive. Neither would he despair, though it took everything that was in him not to. He told his boys each and every day that their Father in Heaven loved them; that He was looking out for them – that there was nothing that would come into their lives that God did not permit, allow…or cause for the good of those who loved Him and obeyed Him.  
The rancher’s lips pursed with concern. He worried about his oldest boy. Like Jacob, Adam wrestled with God. The boy had been through so much. He also had a mind that did not easily accept another’s authority. God had made him that way, and so the rancher trusted that, one day, Elizabeth’s boy would find peace with His maker. That thought led Ben to another, briefly pulling his mind away from his wife’s plight. How was it with their sons? He’d originally intended to bring the boys to the settlement with them, but at the last minute had given in to Adam’s request that he be allowed to care for his brothers at home. Was that God’s hand? Had it kept the boys from exposure and sickness? Ben lifted his head and looked at his wife. But then, they’d already been exposed. Through no fault of his own, Hop Sing had brought the sickness to the Ponderosa. Marie spent that last day with him and with Little Joe. Was the boy as sick as his mother – or even sicker?  
Was his precious Petit Joseph even alive?  
Ben gripped Marie’s hand and laid his forehead against it. No. There was nothing to gain by going to there. Joseph – all of his boy’s were in God’s hands as surely as their mother. The Almighty would watch out for them.  
He had better.

The light was fading by the time Paul returned. His old friend looked exhausted. Without a word the physician checked Marie’s vitals and then dropped into the chair by the window and proceeded to stare out of it. Ben was sitting on the bed beside Marie. He’d been wiping her face and neck with a cool cloth. His wife’s breathing remained shallow, but seemed to have evened out.  
He just wished he knew if that was a good or a bad sign.  
After a minute Paul said, “Ten.”  
“Ten?”  
“Ten dead. In a settlement this size, that’s a heavy toll.”  
“Good Lord!” Ben glanced at his wife. Would Marie be number eleven?  
Paul was slow to reply. “I believe that, Ben. God is good. But at times like these….”  
The rancher rose and went to sit in the chair opposite his friend. Outside the hammering continued and the heavily-laden wagons rolled by.  
“I think….” Ben cleared his throat. “We assume God’s plans are in line with our own. We forget that His ways are not our ways.”  
“I see death on a weekly basis, Ben. Sometimes even daily. But this….” Paul drew in a sharp breath. “The Williams lost their son.”  
“Billy?”  
Paul nodded.  
Billy Williams – William Williams, the second – was the same age as Little Joe.  
Paul winced. “His little heart just…gave out. His mother was with him. She’s sick too. Will begged me to tell him that she would live, but I…couldn’t.” The physician looked at him. “Did you know they have the streets blocked at the edge of town? Robert Olin has established patrols. There’s a curfew, Ben, and a warning that anyone who violates it could be shot.”  
The rancher was shocked. “Has there been trouble?”  
“Plenty in China town – and before you ask, Hop Sing is fine. He’s hunkered down with his family.”  
“Is there more?”  
Paul nodded. “Yes, there’s more. There are snake oil salesmen on every corner selling ‘cures’. Robert doesn’t have the time to arrest them. And there’s looting, Ben. I saw windows broken out on my way here and empty shelves. People are frightened, and they have a right to be. The reverend petitioned Robert for the right to hold a service tonight before the curfew falls and he reluctantly granted him permission.” His friend hesitated, as if considering his words. “I doubt anyone will go. They’re angry with God.”  
Ben studied his friend. “Tell me, Paul. Are you?”  
The physician’s jaw grew rigid. “Yes.”  
“You’ve seen epidemics before, haven’t you?”  
“Yes. But none that move so swiftly or kill so efficiently as this particular influenza. There is something…evil in this, Ben. I’ve heard from colleagues. We are not the only ones suffering. It’s…like a cancer overtaking the world.”  
“For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord,” he quoted quietly – as much for himself as for his friend.  
“I know my Bible, Ben!” Paul snapped. “What I don’t know is how a good and loving God can let something like this occur!”  
The rancher thought about all the times in his life he had questioned God – when Elizabeth died; when Inger fell to an Indian’s arrow so shortly after they had wed. He’d cursed and railed and even upbraided God, telling Him he was cruel and unfair. He had even lost his way and his faith for a time. He’d thought it would bring him relief – that believing he was in control and the master of his own destiny would somehow make the world make sense.  
He’d been wrong.  
“Is there someone you can find who can safely watch Marie for an hour or so?” Ben asked.  
The look Paul gave him was almost comical. “There ‘s a woman in the hotel who has had the influenza before,” he said. “She could.”  
He nodded. “Good. Tell her to come then.”  
“Where are you going?”  
“Not me, we,” he replied. “Get your hat, Paul. We’re going to church.”

It was spare, the attendance. There were, perhaps, twenty people seated in a room that could easily hold fifty or more. They were clustered in family groups, separated by distance from their fellow citizens. A few had scarves tied over their nose and mouth, as if that small gesture could stop the contagion. He supposed it couldn’t hurt, even though Paul said most likely it wouldn’t help.  
Still, it gave them something to do – and he well understood the need for that.  
The current reverend was a fairly young man. He’d come to the Gold Hill area about a year before from New England and was a solid, staunch fellow with a ready smile who wasn’t above looking the other way at his parishioner’s minor offenses. The settlement was young as well, and rough and raw as the ore men came here to mine. The reverend, whose name was Josiah Brown, believed in lifting men’s souls and not in grinding them into the dirt.  
His coming had been a breath of fresh air.  
As he and Paul took a seat, the reverend moved up the steps toward the makeshift altar. Ben supposed one reason he liked Brown was that the man had spent his first five years of ministry as a chaplain on board a sailing vessel. He took his place at the pulpit and held it like the captain of a ship.  
Of course, that’s what he was – the captain of a ship of souls.  
Josiah cleared his throat before addressing the congregation. “First of all,” he began in a rich and melodious baritone, “I thank you for coming. And Robert, I thank you for allowing this gathering.”  
The sheriff was there, at the back of the sanctuary. He nodded his head.  
“It is in times like these, when our world is rocked and its very foundation shaken, that we most need to draw together to support and uplift one another and yet, due to what is happening, it is a risk simply to gather in such a place. There are those who say we should not and I understand their concern. This is a fearsome illness. A man can feel healthy in the morning and face his Maker before the day is done. So, I will keep this brief.” The reverend smiled. “For those of you who came here expecting to hear a fiery sermon or even a learned man’s words of comfort, I am sorry to disappoint you. I have no wisdom beyond your own. I am only a man and, as such, am fallible and as vulnerable as you. The Good Book warns that we are not to lean on our own understanding, and so I intend to let the Lord do the speaking.” Josiah laid his hand on his Bible. “For those of you who have your Bibles with you, please turn to Job, chapter thirty-eight.”  
Ben had left his Bible at the hotel with the woman watching Marie. But he didn’t need it. He knew the passage by heart.  
He read it whenever he got too big for his britches.  
Adam had remarked once that Josiah had the elocution of a Shakespearean actor. It was true. The cadence of his voice, the way he spoke the words – with beauty and brilliance – made the scripture come alive.  
“Then the Lord answered Job out of the whirlwind, and said, who is this that darkeneth counsel by words without knowledge? Gird up now thy loins like a man for I will demand of thee, and answer thou me. Where wast thou when I laid the foundations of the earth? Declare, if thou hast understanding. Who hath laid the measures thereof, if thou knowest, or who hath stretched the line upon it? Whereupon are the foundations thereof fastened, or who laid the corner stone thereof when the morning stars sang together, and all the sons of God shouted for joy?”  
The reverend paused before continuing to look at each one of them in turn. He then read on to the end of the chapter, finishing with Job’s response to God.  
“Then Job answered the Lord, and said, I know that thou canst do everything, and that no thought can be withholden from thee. Who is he that hideth counsel without knowledge? Therefore have I uttered that I understood not, things too wonderful for me, which I knew not.”  
The room was silent. Josiah closed his Bible and placed his hand upon it. “We will conclude with the 23rd psalm,” he said.  
As Ben recited the oft-repeated words, new life and meaning was infused into them.  
“The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want. He maketh me to lie down in green pastures. He leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul.” Tears flowed down his cheeks freely as he continued. “He leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for His name's sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for thou art with me. Thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies, thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.” The rancher glanced at his friend as he drew breath to finish. Paul’s eyes were shining with tears as well. “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life, and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever.”  
‘Amen,’ Paul mouthed.  
“Amen,” the reverend said. “Go home, friends, to your families. Cherish them. And when this is over, remember this night and continue to cherish them as if – at any moment – they could be snatched from your hands, because they can. May God bless you all.”  
The crowd that ushered from the borrowed building was a quiet one. No one said a word, but hurried to their homes with the reverend’s parting words ringing in their ears. As Ben walked by Paul’s side, a voice began to speak to him. By the time he reached the hotel, he knew what he had to do.  
He had to go home.  


FIVE

Hoss Cartwright stood in the doorway of Little Joe’s bedroom, staring down the hallway. He wondered what was keeping Adam? It had been a long time since older brother had gone down to the kitchen to heat more water and make some cough syrup for Little Joe. Hoss turned and looked at the bed. The little feller had plumb done wore himself out coughin’ and was sleepin’ now. There was a rattle in Joe’s chest that he didn’t like. Adam was s’posed to bring up the fixin’s to make a tent too, so they could put the kettle under it. Joe’d seemed kind of scared when he told him they was gonna do that, so’s he’d made up a story about Paiute warriors and wigwams and deep medicine. The only Indians Little Joe knew was friendly ones, so that made him smile. Pa’d told them once upon a time that the Indians knew some things better than white men’s doctors and it made the little boy feel kind of special thinkin’ one of them had somethin’ to do with takin’ care of him.  
Crossing back over to the bed, the ten-year-old pulled the covers back and checked on his brother. Joe was near pale as the sheets. His little chest rose and fell rapid as snow-melt tumblin’ over rocks in the spring, and every once in a while he made a little sound, kind of like a puppy whimperin’. Just before the little feller fell asleep he’d asked again for their ma. He’d had to lie and he hoped God would forgive him. He told Joe he’d see her soon.  
If Ma died….  
Hoss closed his eyes and willed his mind elsewhere. After a few moments, he found himself listening. Night had fallen and, with it, nature had gone to bed. He s’posed Post Hole and Old Dusty was in bed too. There were no wagons rollin’ in – no horses hooves clompin’ across the hard ground. Other than the soft sounds Joe made every once in a while, it was silent; kind of like life had packed up and left for somewhere better.  
Except there was another sound; a new one.  
Someone was calling him.  
Like a shot the ten-year-old was out the door and bounding down the stairs. He paused at the bottom to listen and then he called out. “Adam? Adam, is that you?”  
His answer was yet another sound. A metallic one, like a pan hitting the floor.  
“Adam?” Hoss called again as he headed for the kitchen. “Adam! You answer me!”  
The sight that confronted him when he came to the end of the hall stopped the youngster in his tracks. The kitchen floor was littered with pans and broken crocks and in the midst of all of it lay his older brother. Terror gripped him.  
And then, Adam moved.  
Hoss ran to his brother and fell to his knees at his side. “Adam, please,” he wailed. “C’mon. You cain’t do this to me. You just cain’t be sick.”  
“Not sick. Can’t be sick,” the older boy said as he stirred. Adam reached up and caught the edge of the table with his fingers. “Have to…take care of…Joe and Hoss….”  
His brother was pale as new cheese. Sweat trailed down Adam’s lean face, mingling with the tears flowing from his eyes. The teenager worked himself to his knees before his fingers slipped and he fell back to the floor.  
“Can’t…be sick.”  
But he was.  
Adam had the influenza, just like Little Joe.  
For a moment Hoss panicked, but then he remembered he was a Cartwright and Cartwright’s didn’t panic.  
Much.  
The youngster placed a hand on his brother’s cheek. “Adam, can you hear me? It’s Hoss.”  
Adam blinked. For a moment his eyes were without focus, but then he seemed to recognize him. He nodded.  
“You got yourself a case of that influenza,” Hoss said.  
“No.”  
“Yes. And it don’t do no good sayin’ you don’t, ‘cause you do.”  
His brother’s eyes narrowed as they searched his face. “You’re…okay? Not…sick?”  
“Sure am.”  
Adam sighed as he closed his eyes and rested his head on the floor. Then, they flew open. “Little Joe?”  
‘Joe’s doin’ all right. He’s asleep,” he answered. It wouldn’t do no good to tell Adam anythin’ else.  
“Good. Sleep. I’ll just…sleep here.”  
Hoss shook him. “Adam, you cain’t sleep here on the kitchen floor. The fire’s out. It’s cold. Adam, you hear me?”  
His brother groaned as he began to rise. “Fire. That’s right. I have to…light the fire.”  
“You cain’t do that either. You’re too sick.” Hoss ducked down. He lifted his brother’s arm and placed it around his shoulder. “Come on. I’ll take you to the settee. The fire’s still burnin’ in the hearth.”  
The look Adam gave him was near enough to break his heart. “Hoss, I don’t…know if I…can make it that far.”  
“Sure you can,” he replied. “Ain’t you the one who told me a man can do anythin’ he puts his mind to?”  
Adam snorted as he worked to right himself. “Did I…say that? I’m an…idiot.”  
The ten-year-old grinned. “Can I have that in writin’?”  
“Hoss, really,” the older boy protested. “You have to…let go of me. You’re too…close.”  
“Use that head of yours, older brother, like you always tell Little Joe and me to do,” he huffed. “I been takin’ care of baby brother for over an hour now by myself and he’s coughin’ his head off. I’ll be fine. God’s gotta leave one of us on our feet.”  
“Should…be me.”  
“But it ain’t and you’re just gonna have to live with that.”  
Adam stared at him for several heartbeats. “Remind me of how old you are….”  
He felt old as Methuselah.  
“Ten.”  
Adam leaned more heavily on him as they began to make their way through the hall. “It’s a…good thing you’re twice…the size…you should be,” he said.  
Lots of people thought he was a man, but he wasn’t. He was a boy and he was scared.  
Only he couldn’t let Adam know it.  
“Just keep movin’, older brother. I need to go back up to check on Little Joe.”  
Adam was breathing hard by the time he deposited him on the settee. The teenager sat for a moment and then leaned back and rested his head on the wooden frame. “I made…the tent, Hoss. It’s…in the…kitchen. All you have to…do…is hang it from the tester.” Adam gripped his hand. Hoss could feel the heat rising in him. “Go to Little Joe, Hoss. He has to be…scared. He…needs you more than me.”  
Looking at older brother, Hoss wasn’t so sure. Adam was all sort of gray and his eyes looked mighty funny.  
“How come?” he asked without meaning to.  
“How come…what?”  
Hoss swallowed hard. “How come I ain’t got it?”  
“God alone…knows. Just thank…God you don’t,” the older boy replied as he shifted and laid his head on the arm of the settee. Adam’s eyes closed for a moment and then opened again. “Hoss?”  
“Yeah?”  
“Forget…what I said. You should…go get Dusty.”  
The younger boy frowned. “I thought we was quarantined.”  
“We are – and for good reason. But Hoss, you’re ten. You…can’t do this alone. You…need…help….”  
Quick as greased lightning, Adam was out.  
Hoss took a few steps toward the front door and stopped.  
He didn’t know what to do.  
Older brother was beginnin’ to moan. It wouldn’t be long before he was sick as a cat eatin’ rats. Little Joe was upstairs coughin’ like crazy and cryin’ for his mama. Dad-blame it! He was cryin’ too! He wanted to go to Joe, but there was so much he had to do before he could. He needed to light the fire and start the water boilin’ again. He needed to finish the cough medicine. He had to find that tent and take it upstairs and put into place, and then move Little Joe from his room to Pa’s. He needed….  
He didn’t need Dusty, he needed his pa.  
Hoss sucked in a breath and held it. He closed his eyes as he fought for control. Truth was, whether he wanted to face it or not, his pa and ma could both be dead.  
If Little Joe…if Adam…died….  
He’d be all alone. 

Hoss didn’t know why he was so tired. Seemed to him he was just about as tired as he’d ever been. Fact was, the only other time he could remember bein’ this tired was when they lost Little Joe in the snow and spent the whole day and half the night lookin’ for him.  
Had that been last night?  
The ten-year-old shifted and groaned. He could feel the rising light striking his eyelids, but decided he’d pretend he didn’t. That way he wouldn’t have to get up.  
Funny thing was, he should have been up and at his chores if it was already light.  
Maybe Pa had let him sleep in since he was so plumb tuckered out.  
‘Well,’ the youngster thought to himself as he wrinkled his nose and let out a sigh, ‘Pa ain’t gonna let me lay here forever, so I best get myself up and on my feet afore he comes poundin’ on the door.’  
Slowly, Hoss opened his eyes. The sunlight made him squint and sneeze. He lay for a moment, watching the dust dance in its golden beams, and then he threw his feet over the edge of the bed.  
Only he wasn’t in a bed. Fact was, he wasn’t even in his own room! He’d just woke up on the floor of his ma and pa’s room.  
Just…woke…up.  
Dear Lord in Heaven! He’d fallen asleep!  
Hoss’ gaze shot to the window. It was morning. The last time he remembered lookin’ at the tall case clock, it had been just after midnight. He’d finally given in and gone to the bunkhouse, only to find that Old Dusty was just as sick as Adam and Joe, and Post Hole was gone. He felt bad leavin’ the older man there to take care of himself, but Dusty insisted. He’d returned to the house then, and known the moment he opened the door that Adam had lost all his supper. Cleanin’ older brother up took about an hour. The exhausted youngster sighed. He recalled the clock striking one as he headed upstairs with yet another bucket of boilin’ hot water to feed the steam in Little Joe’s tent….  
He’d been asleep at least four hours.  
Fear gripped him. No. Not fear – terror. Four whole hours!  
Anything could happen in four whole hours.  
Hoss’ fingers clutched the cording on the edge of the ticking beneath him. He closed his eyes, whispered a prayer, and then listened. Little Joe was lyin’ in the big bed just above him. Baby brother had been coughin’ his head off the night before – even fightin’ for breath. He wasn’t coughin’ now. It was silent.  
He couldn’t hear anythin’.  
The ten-year-old fought to make himself stand up and look. Sittin’ on the floor, pretendin’ everythin’ was okay, wasn’t gonna do anybody any good. Either Joe was…alive…or he wasn’t. If he was, then he needed him.  
But he was afraid.  
He was afraid to look. To find out. Afraid of what he’d do if….  
Hoss choked back a sob. He closed his eyes and sought…somethin’…that would get him up and on his feet. As he sat there, close to despair, a breath of wind wafted through the room, stirring his downy red-blond hair. With it came the words of a prayer his ma had taught him. 

I hear no voice, I feel no touch,  
I see no glory bright;  
But yet I know that God is near,  
In darkness as in light.  
He watches ever by my side,  
And hears my whispered prayer:  
The Father for His little child  
Both night and day doth care.

God had heard his prayers.  
He wasn’t sick.  
And if he wasn’t sick, that must mean there was still someone he needed to take care of.  
A slight smile tugged at his lips. Mama had something else she liked to say.  
‘Courage, mon nounours.’  
Taking that courage in hand, Marie’s little bear stood up and moved to the bed.  
Hoss’ hand shook as he took hold of one side of the tent and pulled it back. The scent of pine was strong even though the kettle of water had long since gone cold. He’d propped Little Joe up the night before to help with his cough, but the little boy had slipped down off his pillows and was layin’ still. Pretty much all that showed was Joe’s s honey-colored curls peekin’ out from under the coverlet. Hoss blinked back tears as he touched one of them, and pert near dropped to his knees when his baby brother rolled over and looked at him.  
“How…come…you’re cryin’, Hoss?” he asked.  
The ten-year-old sucked back snot to answer. “I’m just happy to see you’re awake. How are you doin’, punkin?”  
“Oh…kay.” Joe’s lids were droopin’, but he was lookin’ around. “Where’s Adam?”  
“He’s sleepin’ just like you,” he replied. It weren’t exactly the truth, but it weren’t a lie either.  
“Is he sick too?”  
Hoss nodded. “Yeah, Little Joe, he’s sick.”  
“Where’s Mama? I want..Mama.”  
“Don’t you remember, Little Joe? Ma’s in the settlement with Pa.”  
Tears entered his brother’s eyes. “Does she know I’m sick?”  
“No. If she did, you know mama would be right here. Nothing could keep Ma from your side when you’re sick, little brother.” Hoss laid his hand on his brother’s forehead. Joe’s fever was still really high. As he stroked his brother’s cheek, it suddenly dawned on Hoss that Joe wasn’t coughing. He was just about to shout ‘hooray’ when he remembered somethin’ Doctor Martin had said to Pa that time he had bronchitis.  
‘The danger begins, Ben, when and if he stops coughing’.  
“Can you breathe okay, Little Joe?” he asked. When Joe said nothing, he took hold of his shoulder and shook him gently. “Little Joe?”  
“Let me sleep,” his brother replied as he rolled back over.  
Should he?  
How did he know?  
Hoss blinked back the tears. “I’m gonna go get you some more hot water, Little Joe. You need to keep breathin’ that steam. Little Joe?”  
His brother’s ragged breaths were his only reply.  
Hoss dropped the edge of the tent and crossed over to the door. He turned and looked at the bed again before heading into the hall and down the stairs. At the bottom he halted in surprise.  
Adam wasn’t on the settee.  
In fact, his brother wasn’t anywhere.  
The ten-year-old crossed to the hearth area. The blanket he’d covered Adam with was layin’ in a heap on the floor. The pitcher of water he’d left on the table was also on the floor, broken into a dozen pieces. As he continued to look, Hoss noted a few dark droplets on the carpet. Bending down, he fingered one. The youngster drew a breath when he realized what it was.  
Blood.  
Adam must have knocked the pitcher over and then cut himself somehow on the shards. The trail led toward the kitchen, so maybe older brother had been thirsty and he’d headed for the pump. Hoss made his way quickly through the dining room and down the hallway. The kitchen was empty too. Panic began to set in. Where was Adam? He needed him. He needed to know what to do about Little Joe.  
He needed….  
A sound called the ten-year-old’s attention to the fact that the back door – the one that led into Hop Sing’s garden – was open. Hoss ran over to it. Outside, not five feet from the stoop, was Adam. Older brother was layin’ on his stomach with one arm stretched out like he was reachin’ for somethin’.  
Hoss dropped at his side “Adam?” When he got no response, he tried again – louder this time. “Adam!”  
The teenager’s eyelids fluttered, but that was all.  
The ground was wet with dew; the air, chill. The morning mist had yet to lift completely from the land.  
Adam’s clothes were soaked through.  
“Come on, older brother. Wake up!” Hoss said as he pulled at the teenager’s arm. “You…gotta help me. I ain’t strong enough to pick you up and get you back into the house. You’re gonna hafta help me. Adam!”  
He was crying freely now. Both of his brothers were dyin’, he knew it. And there was nothin’ he could do about it.  
Dashing into the kitchen, Hoss went to the cabinet where Hop Sing kept fresh his tablecloths and such, grabbed an armful, and then went back outside and wrapped as many of them as he could as tightly as he could about Adam’s long lanky form. After that, he ran back upstairs to make sure Little Joe was still breathin’.  
It happened as Hoss descended the stair for the second time. He wavered and almost missed a step. The youngster blinked and shook his head as he got to the bottom. He’d been on a ship once with his pa. They’d been in California. There was a man there Pa’d sailed with who invited him and Adam aboard. It was a windy day and, while they was on her, a big old wave came in and struck the vessel and rocked it. It felt like the Earth moved under his feet.  
This felt like that too.  
Hoss took a step and faltered as the world spun.  
“No,” he whispered. “Please, God, no….”  
‘Courage, mon nounours.”  
The youngster straightened up. There was only one thing to do. Even though he knew it was forbidden, Hoss went to his pa’s desk, opened the top drawer, and pulled out the loaded revolver the older man kept there. Then, slowly – haltingly – he walked to the front door and opened it.  
Pa was smart. He’d taught them what to do when all hope was gone.  
Pointing the weapon at the sky, Hoss pulled the trigger three times before collapsing.

  
Chapter Six

Ben had stopped on the road to relieve himself and rest his horse. He’d pushed the animal unmercifully, and he knew it. Traveling at a fast pace had gained him precious time. Still, the twenty miles between the settlement and home had never seemed so long. As he sat on a rock and unstopped his canteen, he cast his mind back, recalling his departure from the settlement.  
It had not been without…incident.  
______  
“What do you mean, you’re going home?” Paul Martin demanded.  
“You said Marie is better,” Ben replied.  
“Yes. She’s past the crisis point and on the road to recovery. But, Ben….”  
Marie woke and took a sip of water just after they returned from the service. Paul thought it a good sign until her fever soared so high he feared convulsions. Then, by the grace of God alone, it broke. His beloved’s chest was still congested and Marie was not completely out of the woods, but she’d awakened again just before sunrise and been able to take a few spoonfuls of broth.  
A miracle in itself!  
“I trust you, Paul. I know you will look after her.”  
“Of course, I will!” the doctor huffed. “Ben, I completely understand your need to go home. You’re worried about the boys. But – and this is a big but – even if I gave you my blessing, just how do you propose to get out of town? Robert has deputies on every corner. As of this morning, the settlement is under quarantine.”  
“On your orders.”  
He nodded. “Mine and the other medical men in residence.” Paul sighed. “I’m sorry, Ben. It’s just too dangerous.”  
“I’ll go straight to the Ponderosa. I promise I won’t speak to anyone along the way.” He drew a deep breath to stem his rising anger. “Paul, my boys have already been exposed. My presence can’t harm them.”  
“It’s not that, Ben. If Robert allows you to leave, it will open a flood gate. Others will defy him and follow.” Paul laid a hand on his shoulder. “You are a man of your word. I am afraid that is not true of everyone.”  
He understood Paul’s fears, but he also knew they were the fears of a man who, with good cause, feared – no, believed the worst.  
“I’ll speak to Robert in private. No one will see me leave. I promise.”  
Paul shook his head. “I’m sorry, Ben. I told Robert to lock up anyone who tried.”  
Ben’s jaw grew tight as his temper flared. He fought to control it. Paul was only doing what he thought best.  
“The streets are deserted,” he shot back. “There is no one to infect!”  
The physician eyed him. “Those two young men you hired recently. Do you know what happened to them?”  
“Young men?”  
“The Shackley brothers.”  
“I assume they are still on the Ponderosa.”  
“Well, then, you’d assume wrong. They came into town shortly after you did. I know because I witnessed Robert hauling them out of the saloon.”  
“I don’t understand.”  
“Jim and Jack told Robert they’d spoken to Roy Coffee and he’d informed them that Marie was ill. They left the Ponderosa rather than risk infection.”  
Ben scowled. “What does this have to do with my wanting to go home?”  
“Robert told the Shackley boys to stay put since they’d been exposed. They didn’t listen. They left and went to Dry Diggings. They have it now.”  
“Who has what now?” he snapped, impatient.  
“The influenza, Ben. It’s in Dry Diggings and Jack is dead.”  
Paul’s words gave him pause, but it wasn’t enough to alter his plans. “But I’m not going to another town, I’m going home. Tonight!”  
Paul stared at him a minute before speaking.  
“No, Ben, I’m afraid you’re not.” 

It was a few hours before Marie woke again. This time she was more lucid and had enough energy to talk. The first words out of her mouth were the ones Ben expected.  
“Are the boys all right?”  
How did he answer that? Did he dare tell her the truth – that he didn’t know and couldn’t find out?  
“Mon cher?”  
Tears kissed his eyes. He lowered his head. “I don’t know.”  
His wife straightened up against the pillows. It pained him to see her. She’d lost both weight and color. In fact, Marie looked like her own shade.  
“What do you mean you ‘don’t know?’”  
“You’ve been very ill, my love,” he said. “I’ve been at your side day and night.”  
“But who is with them?” she demanded, growing agitated.  
Paul had warned him to make certain she did not do just that.  
“Marie, you need to calm down.”  
“I will not…calm down! They are my bébés! They need someone to…look after…them.” His wife reached out and grasped his sleeve. “You must go!”  
“I want to. I…need to,” he responded. “They won’t let me.”  
“Qui?”  
“Who? Everyone! They’ve quarantined the settlement, Marie. No one is allowed to go out or in.”  
Her jaw set.  
“I will…go out,” she declared as she put her hand to her covers and tossed them aside. “Let them…try…to…stop me!”  
A moment later they were both on the floor and he held her in his arms.  
“You are not well enough, my love,” he whispered as he kissed her forehead.  
“Then you…must go,” she insisted as her tears wet the fabric of his shirt. “Do not…let them stop you. Find a way! Our son…our sons…need you.”  
Her spirit shamed him.  
Even as Marie lost consciousness and he returned her to her bed, Ben’s resolve hardened into action. He was a good man and a law-abiding citizen, but he was also something else.  
He was a father.  
His sons needed him. 

Most jailbreaks were made at midnight, so Ben staged his for the crack of dawn. He bid Marie farewell and left with her blessing. She assured him she would be a ‘bonne fille’ while he was gone and asked that he send word as soon as he knew that the boys were well.  
God grant the boys were well.  
Paul had gone home to catch a few hours of sleep. He’d assured his friend that he would do the same while he was gone. His old friend trusted him and he was loathe to break that trust. He knew their friendship might never be the same. Still, his allegiance and duty was to his wife and children and he had decided that – no matter what it took – he would carry it out.  
Fortunately, he’d chosen to wear his black shirt and dark gray pants for their night in the settlement, and so he blended in as he moved through the shadows from one building to the next, drawing his horse after him. The first checkpoint he’d passed was manned by a friend of Adam’s whose haphazard tin badge looked out of place on his hand-me-down plaid shirt. The boy was sitting on the porch of the seed store with his head tipped back against one of its posts.  
He was snoring gently.  
The second check-point, which was located closer to the edge of the settlement and watched by two men, one of whom was a deputy, was considerably more challenging. Ben had to cross a span of growing sunlight to move past them. In the end he used the oldest trick in the book. He tossed a stone to one side and sent them scrambling. He was at the last check-point now.  
Roy Coffee manned it.  
“I’m sorry, Ben. I just can’t let you through.”  
“I’m not asking you to let me through, Roy,” he said, his tone as determined as the look on the lawman’s face. “I’m telling you to get out of my way.”  
“‘Fraid I can’t do that either.”  
The deputy hadn’t drawn his gun yet, but his fingers were dangling just above it.  
“Roy. Out there,” he indicated the road and what lay beyond, ‘twenty miles away, there are three young boys who’ve been on their own for three days. Anything could have happened.”  
“Adam’s mindin’ the place. He’ll take care of the other two.”  
“What if Adam is sick?” he snapped.  
Roy ran a hand over his eyes. “Everyone’s sick, Ben.”  
“Then let me go! What will it matter if everyone –?”  
“We’re tryin’ to make sure no one else gets it. You know that.”  
“I’m going straight home. I’m not going to give it to anyone, Roy. You know that.”  
“It’s the principal, Ben. If I let you go, I have to let the next feller go too – and the next. Soon, it’ll be like a flash flood.”  
The rancher opened his arms and indicated the empty street. “Just who do you think is going to know?”  
Roy’s crisp blue eyes narrowed. “I will. I got my duty to uphold the law.”  
“And does that duty include keeping a father from his children? Does it include letting them die? What if it was your child?”  
Roy frowned. “Now, you know that ain’t fair, Ben.”  
Yes, he knew. Nothing about this was fair.  
Ben was silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, it was slowly and with added weight given to each word.  
“I understand what you’re saying, Roy, but I’m sorry, I can’t let it stand. Now you can arrest me – or shoot me – but short of you doing one of those two things I am walking past you, mounting up, and going home to my boys.”  
The tips of Roy’s fingers brushed the handle of his gun. “Don’t push me, Ben.”  
Their gazes locked.  
“Don’t try me, Roy.”  
The two of them remained as they were for half-a-dozen heartbeats. Then Roy let out a sigh. Seconds later he moved his hand away from his gun and stepped out of his way.  
“Why?” he asked.  
“You just go, Ben. Don’t you worry about why.”  
He nodded. “Thank you, Roy.”  
“You ain’t gonna thank me when Robert hauls you out of that fancy house of yours and throws you into a cell.”  
“That’s okay, Roy. He won’t do that.”  
His friend looked puzzled. “Why not?”  
The rancher smiled as he took hold of his horse’s reins and moved past the blockade. “Don’t you know? No one is allowed to leave town.”  
_____  
Ben stopped his canteen and rose to his feet. It had been close to thirty minutes and that was more than he felt he had to spare. He wanted – no, he needed to get home. The Ponderosa wasn’t that far away. Less than five miles stood between him and his heart’s desire. If it hadn’t been for his horse, he would have ridden straight through, but fifteen miles had been all the animal could take at a pace.  
The rancher dropped into the saddle and pressed his knees into his horse’s ribs. His old friend responded instantly and they were on their way. The buckskin didn’t complain as he urged him into a fast trot and then a canter. It was almost as if he was anxious to get home as well. The miles flew by as the sun rose heralding a new day full of promise and uncertainty. Ben couldn’t help but whisper a prayer as he drew close to home, not that his sons had been spared – for so many other father’s sons were ill – but that, if they had fallen sick, he’d be in time to help them.  
As the rancher crested the last rise and the house appeared before him, relief washed over him.  
It was short-lived.  
Three shots rang out.  
The Cartwright signal for disaster.

Chapter Seven 

Ben vaulted from his horse and ran, not toward the house, but toward the bunkhouse. Out of the corner of his eye he had seen something fall to the ground as he pulled into the yard. It was his foreman and friend, Dusty McGraw. By the time he reached him, the old cowpoke was up again and moving unsteadily toward the house. The rancher caught the older man’s elbow and winced as he felt the fever raging through him.  
“Dusty, you’re sick! What are you doing out of bed?”  
His friend stared at him blankly. Then he rasped out a single word. “Ben?”  
“Yes. It’s me.” Ben circled his shoulder with an arm. “Let me help you back to the bunkhouse.”  
“No!’ Dusty feebly pushed him away. “I told the boy….I told Adam…fire off three shots…if you need…me.”  
“I’m here now. I’ll see to the boys,” Ben said as turned the older man around. “Let’s get you back in bed.” For a moment he thought Dusty would fight him, but then the old cowpoke nodded and they began their slow progress back to the bunkhouse.  
“It’s good to…see you, Ben,” Dusty said.  
“How long have you been sick?”  
“Sick? Let me…think. Two days maybe.”  
“Jeb? Is he sick too?”  
The older man shook his head. “Told him to go…see to his own.”  
Just as he needed to see to his own.  
As he helped Dusty into bed and drew the cover up to his chin, he asked, “Have you seen the boys lately?”  
He frowned. “I saw Adam yesterday…or maybe it was the day before.” He looked apologetic. “You know, Ben, I…can’t rightly say.”  
Ben brought him a glass of water. “Here. Drink this.” As he waited for the other man to finish, he asked, “So you haven’t seen Hoss or Little Joe at all?”  
Dusty handed the glass back. “Adam…. The boy told me to keep away, Ben. Said he could…take care of his own.” Trembling fingers clawed at his shirt. “I heard ‘em Ben. Just now. Three shots. Just like I told him.”  
“I heard them too,” he said. “Dusty, I need to –”  
“You go, Ben. You tell Adam…I’m sorry….”  
As the older man fell into a fitful sleep, Ben pivoted on his heel and headed for the bunkhouse door. Once he reached it, he paused. It had been three days since he and Marie had ridden into the settlement. If Adam had warned him away from the house that night, that meant one of the boys was already sick. He feared it was Joseph. His youngest been the closest to his mother and, as youngest, was the most likely to succumb to the disease.  
His baby had been sick for three days and he hadn’t been there to comfort and care for him.  
And perhaps, to bid him goodbye.  
It had taken courage to leave New England, and even greater courage to come out West. His faith had been that which supplied him. It had carried him through those hardships as well as Elizabeth’s and Inger’s deaths.  
He didn’t know if it could carry him through this.  
Ben fixed his eyes on the house. He drew a breath as he noted that the front door was standing open and then, he began to run. As he drew near he saw that something laying on the floor.  
Not something.  
Someone.  
“Hoss!” the rancher exclaimed as he dropped to the floor beside his middle son. A smoking gun lay next to the boy. “Hoss!?”  
To his relief his son stirred almost instantly. “Pa?” he asked. “Pa? Is it really you?”  
Ben hugged his boy to his chest as he answered. “Yes, son. I’m home. Pa will take care of everything now.”  
“Is…Ma okay?”  
He caressed the boy’s face. “Your mother’s fine. She’s resting.” Ben looked around. “Where are your brothers?”  
Tears entered his son’s eyes. “Little Joe’s in your bed, Pa. He’s awful sick.”  
“And Adam?”  
“Adam’s sick too. I did what I could, Pa, but it just weren’t enough. I tried to take care of both of them.”  
The rancher was stricken to the core. The thought of his young son bearing such an unimaginable burden – alone – was nearly beyond his comprehension.  
“Hoss, you did all that you could. There’s a limit to even the best man’s strength.” Ben sat his son up and looked him in the eyes. “I need you to answer this question honestly. Do you think you’re sick or just worn out? Now, tell me the truth.”  
“Heck, Pa, I ain’t Little Joe,” the boy answered, his smile weak. Then he coughed. “To tell the truth, I ain’t sure. I do feel kind of funny.”  
He caught the boy under his arms and lifted him up, and then helped him over to the settee. Once he got there, Ben realized that someone else had recently occupied it. The scent of sickness lingered in the air and a blanket lay on the floor, abandoned in a nest of broken crockery.  
“Adam was down here when he took sick, Pa,” Hoss said.  
“Is he upstairs with your brother now?”  
Hoss shook his head. “That’s why I fired them shots Pa. I don’t know what Adam was thinkin’, but he’s layin’ outside the kitchen door. Little Joe ain’t coughin’ anymore and I cain’t wake him up.” Tears fell down the boy’s chubby cheeks. “I couldn’t take care of both of them. I didn’t know what to do.”  
He didn’t know what to do either.  
The thought of Adam lying outside in the chill morning air chilled him. This disease was no discriminator of age. His eldest could die just as easily as his youngest. But Joseph was a baby. If his youngest was awake – and found himself alone – he would be terrified.  
Looking toward the kitchen, the rancher pleaded. “Hold on, Adam. You’ll have to wait a little while longer.”

Ben took the steps three at a time and bounded down the upper hall, arriving at his room in record time. When he entered, he was nearly overwhelmed by the damp heat and the heavy scent of pine. A small tent had been erected in the middle of his bed. He assumed his youngest son was under it. The rancher held his breath as he drew the linen sheet back, unsure of what he would find. Little Joe’s face was buried in his pillow. His tiny frame shook with the intensity of his tears.  
He sat beside him and put a hand on his back. The boy was so small his hand nearly covered the entirety of it.  
“Joseph, son, it’s your papa. I’m here.”  
One eye peeked out from under a sodden mass of tangled curls. Little Joe stared at him and then, to his surprise, burrowed in even deeper.  
“Son?”  
“No!” the boy wailed. “You’re not my papa. You…can’t be! Papa’s…gone….”  
Between the coughing and wheezing it was hard to tell what his son said, but he caught the gist of it.  
“Joseph, look at me.”  
His son’s little head shook.  
For a moment, he was at a loss. He’d known the boy would be afraid, but not of…him.  
He hated to do it, but Ben wrapped his large hands around his small son’s trembling form and rolled him over, forcing the boy to look at him. It was all he could do not to share Joseph’s tears. Joseph was gaunt. Great dark circles ringed his eyes and his skin was sallow.  
To his utter amazement the boy fought him.  
“Let…me go!” Joe cried hysterically as his little fists hammered his chest. “I kept calling…and calling…and Papa never came! He’s not…gonna come! Papa’s…dead! Just like..Adam and Hoss!”  
“Son….”  
“Punkin,” a voice spoke from the open door. “I ain’t dead. Look. I’m here.”  
Joseph stiffened at the sound of his brother’s voice.  
So did he, with anger.  
“Hoss, I told you to stay downstairs!” Ben snapped.  
The boy was leaning against the jamb. “I’m sorry I disobeyed you, Pa. I heard Little Joe yellin’ and I figured you might need some help.”  
Joseph was clinging to him now and looking over his shoulder. “Hossy? Is you okay?”  
“Yeah, it’s me,” Hoss said as he advanced to the bed. “I ain’t worth much, but I’m here.”  
Little Joe stared at his brother, a frown on his face. A moment later he pulled back and looked at him. Joseph reached out a hand to touch his face. No sound came from the boy’s lips, but he spoke nonetheless.  
‘Papa?’  
Ben blinked back tears. “Yes, son. I’m here.”  
Joe’s fingers moved to his mouth; then his nose and eyes. “Is it…really you, Papa?” he asked.  
Ben crushed his baby to his chest. “Yes, Little Joe, it’s me. Papa’s here. Everything’s going to be all right now.”  
“Pa?”  
Ben turned to look at Hoss. “Yes, son?”  
“You want me to stay with Little Joe while you…. Well, you know.”  
Joseph’s small fingers bit into his flesh. “No! Papa, no! Don’t go!”  
Hoss came closer. “Joe, Adam’s sick just like you are. Pa needs to go see to him too.” It was a struggle, but Hoss managed to climb up onto the bed. “I’ll stay with you and Pa will go and fetch him. How’s that?”  
Joe blinked as if unsure, and then turned to him. “Do you…gotta…go, Papa?” he asked between coughs.  
Ben brushed a hank of golden-blond curls out of the little boy’s eyes and planted a kiss on his fevered brow. “Yes, I gotta,” he said softly. “I won’t be long.”  
“Old Hoss’ll take care of you, punkin,” his middle boy said as he wrapped an arm around his baby brother. “You just stick with me.”  
Once in the hall, Ben let the tears flow.  
Could he be more blessed?

If he’d run up the stairs, the rancher flew down them. Ben nearly fell as he turned the corner into the kitchen. He’d hoped Hoss had been wrong, but when he saw the back door standing wide open and a pair of boots laying on the threshold, he knew that hope was forlorn one. Kneeling in the wet grass, the rancher placed a hand on his son’s back. The heat that radiated through the touch was truly frightening. Ben drew a deep breath to calm his racing heart before turning his eldest over and only let it out when Adam moaned. Then, he did something he hadn’t done since Adam was ten.  
He picked the boy up and carried him up the stairs to his room.  
The next twenty-four hours were a nightmare he hoped never to relive.  
Little Joe was the first to reach a crisis. The tiny boy’s fever was already high, but it went higher – so high Ben feared it would burn him alive. In-between trips to the well to fetch ice cold water to wet Joseph’s blankets and wrap him in, he would check on Hoss whose needs – thankfully – were few and who seemed to be holding his own. Adam’s condition lay somewhere between the other two; not yet in crisis, but inevitably moving toward it. Unlike Joseph, who was lucid, his eldest was out of his head. In his fever dreams Adam thought both of his brothers dead and he blamed himself. Nothing he could say would sway this belief.  
Adam’s tears were the hardest to bear of all.  
Near dawn on his second day home, Joseph’s fever spiked one last time and then broke. Ben quickly removed the sodden sheets from his son’s tiny form and wrapped him in warm blankets and transferred him to the extra ticking he had pulled close to the fire. The night had been dark, but his morning was blessed when Joseph opened those beautiful green eyes of his and gave him a weak smile. His second blessing came when he visited Hoss. He too beamed at his approach. His middle boy was sick, but seemed to have a light case of the contagion. Hoss’ sleep was a natural one and his fever low.  
Ben took a moment to splash cold water in his face before tending to his remaining son. He’d gone a whole day now without sleep and the long hours of uncertainty were taking their toll. As he stumbled across the hall to Adam’s room, his lips moved in prayer, petitioning his Heavenly Father for his own health. Little Joe was out of danger and he didn’t think Hoss was in any.  
Adam was another story.  
Ben entered his eldest’s room and dropped into the chair he had pushed up against the bed. He watched Adam for a moment before laying a hand on his brow. At his touch, Adam stirred and turned his head toward him.  
The boy’s eyes were clear.  
“Pa?”  
Ben was encouraged. Adam knew him. He hadn’t before.  
“Yes, son. It’s me.”  
The teenager swallowed and winced as if it hurt him. “Little Joe?” he asked.  
“Your brother’s going to be all right. His fever broke early this morning.”  
Adam frowned. “Not…dead?”  
“No, son. He’s very much alive. You took care of him just like you said you would.”  
The boy’s jaw tightened. He turned his head away. “No,” he said firmly. “Failed him. Failed…you.”  
“Adam, your brother is alive – both your brothers are alive. The only one disappointed in you is you.” Ben paused to collect himself. “I’m proud of you, boy. You and Hoss. No man could have done better.”  
Adam turned back. “Hoss is…okay too?”  
He nodded. “Son, you’re the only one in danger. You have to stop worrying about your brothers and concentrate on getting better.”  
The boy was staring at him. “You look..awful.”  
Ben chuckled. “Thank you.”  
“Get…some…rest, Pa. I’ll…be okay.”  
“I’ll rest when you are okay.”  
“You should listen to your son, mon cher. He is a very wise man.”  
Ben whirled, startled. He couldn’t believe what he saw. Marie was standing just inside the room looking very pale and very determined.  
Behind her was a slightly chagrined Roy Coffee.  
“Roy?”  
The lawman shrugged. “What can I say, Ben? I figured you’d need some company in that jail cell.”  
Marie came to his side. She kissed his cheek and then took a seat on the bed. “My brave young man,” she said as she laid a hand alongside Adam’s cheek. “Thank you for taking care of my little ones.”  
The boy blinked. Tears entered his eyes. “But, I didn’t….”  
“Hush. I have just come from their rooms.” Marie smiled as she placed her hand over their son’s. “Both will be well. Now is the time to see to you.”  
Ben placed a hand on her shoulder. “Marie, my love. I can take care of him. You should rest.”  
“All I have done is rest!” she snapped with something of her usual fire. “I am bien! I will take care of our son while you, Benjamin, get some sleep. You look terrible!”  
“You do look…awful, Pa,” Adam agreed quietly – and with a bit of a grin.  
Roy was stifling his laughter. “Looks like you got your marchin’ orders, Ben.”  
A protest formed on his lips, but he knew from experience that expressing it would be futile.  
Ben threw his hands up in surrender.  
“All right. All right. I’ll go take a nap – after I check in on Hoss and Joseph.”  
Marie stared him down. A heartbeat later, she nodded, “That will be acceptable.”  
The rancher let out a sigh as he headed for the door.  
There were times when it was up for debate just who wore the britches in the Cartwright family. 

  
Epilogue

Ben Cartwright opened his eyes and laid for a moment watching the dust dance in a sunbeam that lit one of the embroidered flowers which graced the candlewick spread covering his bed. There was something almost magical about the way a thing so common could be transformed into something extraordinary. It was a lazy sort of dance and he felt his lids drooping as he followed it.  
That was until something wriggled – and then wiggled – under the covers near his feet before heading for him like a mole on patrol for grubs.  
His mole, however, had a mound of golden curls and the face of an angel.  
Little Joe put a finger to his lips and made a ‘shushing’ sound.  
“Shh, Papa,” he said. “It’s a secret.”  
Ben blinked. “What’s a secret?”  
The tiny boy reared up and looked at the door. Then he plunged back under the covers and once again took up his position between the pillows and linens stacked at the end of the bed.  
“Joseph?”  
“Shh,” was all he got.  
It turned out his tiny son had the hearing of a mole as well.  
“Mon cher! You are awake!” his wife said as she and her voluminous skirts swept into the room.  
Of course, he was awake. It was morning.  
He wondered why Marie sounded surprised.  
Ben glanced at the window and realized from the sun’s angle that it must be nearly noon. He caught hold of the spread and tossed it back.  
“I need to get to work.”  
“You will do no such thing!” his wife ordered as she took the covering from his fingers and pressed it back into place. “Mon Dieu! Men! Doctor Martin has ordered three days rest and rest you will if I have to sit on you!”  
The proposition was an interesting one, but Ben suddenly realized he wouldn’t have the energy to take…advantage of his wife’s position. He felt weak.  
Ill, in fact.  
“Marie, I….” He met her troubled gaze. “Have I been sick?”  
Her stern look melted into tears. “Mon cher,” she said again, more gently this time, “oui. You have been very sick.”  
He frowned at her. Had he? He didn’t remember.  
And then he did.  
Ben sucked in a breath. “Adam?” he asked with trepidation.  
“I’m fine, Pa.” his teenage son replied as he entered the room carrying a tray. When Marie gave the boy a ‘look’, he shrugged. “You try telling Hop Sing to stop cooking.”  
“Is there soup?” she asked.  
The boy nodded. “Broth with chicken – along with a chicken sandwich, whipped potatoes, and two helpings of vegetables. ”  
His wife turned back to look at him. “Beloved?”  
It wasn’t until that moment that Ben realized his stomach had a hollow feel to it, like he hadn’t eaten for days. “How long?” he asked. “How long have I been sick?” The rancher’s gaze went to his eldest. Adam looked peeked. He had lost weight. Still, the boy was on his feet.  
The last time he’d seen him he’d been anything but.  
“It’s been three days, Pa,” Adam said as he put the tray down on the bedside table – and then picked the sandwich up and took a bite out of it.  
He vaguely remembered being in the boy’s room when his mother came home – along with Roy Coffee.  
“I’m not in jail,” Ben remarked.  
Marie laughed as she touched his face. “Non. Nor am I. Though the sheriff assures me a cell will be waiting for the both of us the next time we choose to break the law.”  
“Roy?” he asked.  
“Had a lot of explaining to do,” Adam laughed.  
It was all a lot to take in and he was tired. Still, there were things he needed to know. “Where is Hoss?”  
“Dusty took him out to watch the calving this morning. He’s lying down now,” his son answered as he folded his lanky form into a chair. “Little Joe’s taking a nap with him.”  
Ben’s gaze flicked to the bottom of the bed. It was amazing that the child could hold so still.  
He’d had no idea Joseph had it in him.  
“I see. Dusty is well too?”  
“The influenza has run its course, at least in the area of Gold Hill,” Adam replied. “Doc Martin said there are a few cases in the outlying areas, but he thinks it’s just about over.”  
Ben nodded. He looked at his wife. “How many?”  
She knew what he was asking. Marie shook her head.  
Too many then.  
Her fingers curled around and pressed his own. “God was watching over us, mon cher. We are all alive. Let us not think of what could have been. Let us count our blessings.”  
Marie was thinner too – and appeared older. He supposed he looked older too.  
One did not pass through the valley of the shadow of death without paying a price.  
Their eyes met and the knowledge of that truth passed between them. Both of them remained silent as Adam chomped away on the chicken sandwich and Little Joe’s rampant curls tickled his bare toes.  
His wife was the first to stir. She reached for the tray. “I will feed you some soup.”  
He put his hand on her arm. “Later.”  
“Are you….?”  
“Just tired,” he said. “I promise I will eat…later.”  
Adam rose to his feet. “I’ll take the plate down with me. Hop Sing will see the sandwich is gone and it will make his day.”  
“How is his father?” Ben asked.  
“Back to himself,” his son laughed. “Hop Ling came out to pick up the laundry and let loose with a string of Cantonese when he saw how much of it there was.” Adam put a hand to his ear. “I imagine if you listen closely enough, you can still hear him complaining.”  
He wanted to laugh. He really did.  
But he didn’t have the energy.  
“Adam, we are wearing your father out,” Marie said as she shifted off of the bed. “Come, let us go and let him sleep.”  
The boy was staring out the window. In a somewhat sing-song voice, he said, “Innocent sleep. Sleep that soothes away all our worries. Sleep that puts each day to rest.”  
Marie took the quote from Macbeth up, beginning where the boy had left off. “Sleep that relieves the weary laborer and heals hurt minds. Sleep, the main course in life's feast, and the most nourishing.”  
Adam turned and grinned at her. They shared that, a love of poetry and of words.  
“Yeah, let’s go,” he replied, “before we ‘murder’ Pa’s sleep.”  
Marie still had hold of his hand. She stared at him for several heartbeats and then bent and planted a kiss on his lips. ‘I love you,’ she mouthed before she turned and exited the room on the arm of his son.  
Ben laid there, contemplating all he had just heard – until the mole started wriggling again. A second later Little Joe’s head popped out and he drew in several breaths.  
“Are you okay?” Ben asked, hiding his smile.  
Little Joe nodded solemnly and then glanced at the door again. “Is Mama gone?”  
He nodded too.  
The smile that broke on the child’s face was more brilliant – and a thousand times more welcome – than that sun beam.  
“I’m all better, Papa.” The smile dimmed. “Are you?”  
“Yes, Little Joe, I’m all better.”  
“Can we go play then?”  
Ah, the resiliency of youth.  
“Not quite yet. You heard you mother, didn’t you? I have to take a nap.”  
Little Joe’s eyes widened at the mention of his wonderful, marvelous and very scary mama. “I’m s’posed to be taking a nap too,” he whispered.  
“Oh.” Ben whispered as well. “Maybe we could take one together?”  
The boy considered it. “I…don’t…know, Papa. Will Mama spank me if she finds me in your bed instead of Hossy’s?”  
“I don’t think so, but to be sure…” Ben shifted slightly and indicated the empty space beside him. “…you lay down and I’ll pull the sheet up over you. Mama won’t even know you’re here.”  
Again, there was thought, and then – slowly – a grin way too wicked for a four-year-old spread over his young son’s face.  
A moment later Little Joe was snuggled up against his side. The boy lay there for a moment, and then turned over and flung his arm across his chest.  
“I love you, Papa,” Joseph said softly.  
He returned the gesture, pulling the little boy into an embrace even as a tear trailed down his cheek. “I love you too, son,” he said.  
Ben laid there for some time, listening to his tiny son’s even breathing, remembering that only a few days before he had feared the child would never draw another breath, and then he turned his eyes upward.  
“Thanks,” he said, and then joined his son in sleep.  
_____  
END


End file.
